


The Doctor, the Detective, and the Soldier

by L_Nevada



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Nevada/pseuds/L_Nevada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs help in order to bring down Moriarty's network and calls in an old friend to help him do just that.  John ends up being dragged along for the ride and there's no telling what adventures will ensue.  This story follows immediately after the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Call for Help

Bang!  
The sound of the gun shot still rang loud in his ears seconds after the bullet was released from its chamber. He stood alone on the roof, looking down in shock at a motionless body. Out of all the scenarios he had thought through so carefully this was not how he saw this meeting ending. He had many theories on how this meeting was going to pan out; each had a specific plan that would get him out alive, but this one, there was no plan of escape.  
Moriarty was so keen on destroying Sherlock that he was actually willing to take his own life to make it happen. Sherlock should have known after the event at the pool that Moriarty was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, but he hadn’t taken this extreme into account. Sherlock didn’t think Moriarty would go this far just to get what he wanted, but of course Moriarty would. Now Sherlock was looking at Moriarty’s corpse laying on the high rooftop in the sun. Sherlock hadn’t considered the possibility and now he was in trouble.  
Now Sherlock would need help.  
Sherlock had minutes to act until Moriarty’s men would carry out the order. He had seconds to think and he soon came to a decision; it was time to call in an old friend. All Sherlock could do now was hope that his call would be heard and not go ignored by the sporadic individual.  
Sherlock slowly stepped up onto the roof for a second time so he could be seen. He looked down the side of the tall building he was standing on and looked to the ground below. He screamed in his head for help, quickly formulating a plan, and willing his message to reach the man he knew well, where ever he was, the only man who could save him now, and hoped his friend would respond. Sherlock was willing to jump until he happened to look up and see a cab pull in front of a shorter building across the street from where he stood. John stepped out onto the pavement and started jogging around the building towards Sherlock. Without hesitation Sherlock called John and started talking. Sherlock fed his best friend lies in the hope that John would swallow them and be able to eventually move on.  
Sherlock actually began to cry. For the first time since the man himself didn’t know how long. If help didn’t arrive then Sherlock was going to die today. Without assistance the only way for Sherlock to leave this hospital was in a body bag. And yet this had to be done. Sherlock had to save Lestrade, he had to save Ms. Hudson….he had to save John.  
“Goodbye John.”  
“Nope.”  
Sherlock heard his phone hit the roof with a subtle ‘clack’ behind him. John was looking up at him from the ground below with pleading eyes; he didn’t believe anything Sherlock had said. How could he? John didn’t know why Sherlock was doing this, but he knew something was wrong. If he could get Sherlock back to the flat they could figure something out, they could stop this all of this from happening, they could stop Moriarty, and everything would go back to normal.  
Sherlock had come on this roof to end things with Moriarty. He planned to beat him, get him to stop his games, and then return home to 221B Baker Street where things would return to normal, but now that couldn’t happen. Now it seemed to Sherlock that he had been careless, almost mindless in his planning, blinded by his emotions, and selfish in his assumptions which now risked the lives of the few people in this world who actually cared about him and who he himself cared deeply for. It was his utter stupidity that brought him to the very situation that he now found himself in. He looked down at John again for possibly the last time; John was here to take Sherlock home.  
But Sherlock couldn’t go home yet, not until he ended this, one way or another.  
He called for help, reaching out with his mind one last time…  
And then he jumped.  
He counted the seconds as he fell. Hoping to be caught, expecting to feel gravel and pain. Wind blew in his face and through his hair as he gained speed. He closed his eyes and waited to hit the ground, and then he heard it: a familiar, faint whooshing sound.  
He landed on his feet with a quiet thud, the same sound now loud in his ears as his body was propelled forward again. He was now inside a building, he could tell, there was less lighting. He opened his eyes and looked to the center of the room, to the control panel looping around the rustic yet futuristic column which dominated the room, and The Doctor was standing beside him.  
Floppy brown hair and small red bow tie, The Doctor turned and stood leaning against the controls in front of Sherlock. He might have changed faces again, but he still wore a warm and welcoming smile on his face. He looked younger than before, but his eyes had aged drastically again.  
Sherlock remembered the first time he meet The Doctor. He had short brown hair, big ears, and wore a large leather jacket. The two had run into each other by chance when Sherlock was young and it wasn’t long before The Doctor had convinced Sherlock to tag along for the ride. The Doctor swept Sherlock off on an adventure away from his home and they were gone for a week in total, and yet Sherlock was returned home in time for dinner the same day he had left. The Doctor had saved Sherlock twice in that short week and Sherlock had proved to be an enormous help in The Doctor’s line of ‘work’ even at the young age of seventeen. That one week lead into years of adventures and a lifelong friendship. They had known each other for twenty years and they still meet up from time to time, though rarely now since Sherlock had John, but The Doctor was always there when Sherlock needed his help. And The Doctor wore the same smile on his today as he did back then, regardless of the body he possessed. Often times it was fake in the presence of strangers or new company. He would put on this smile, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes, to hide his secrets and fears. To hide from his own past. He was always happy when he took on new companions, but it would never last long. He loved everyone separate and dearly, every one of his companions, but eventually they all left him, one way or another. Then he was left alone, the joy would drain from his wise eyes and his smiling façade would return. He would stop smiling when he thought no one was looking.  
But today his smile was genuine. With Sherlock it was different; the smile was never put on. They were close and understood each other. The Doctor believed that Sherlock was as close as any human being could get to knowing how he felt on a daily bases: Bored and Alone.  
So when The Doctor looked at Sherlock now it was a warm and carefree smile. The Doctor was welcoming an old friend back home.  
“Alright Sherlly?” he asked, smile pleasant and welcoming.  
“Alright Doctor,” Sherlock greeted with a smile of his own. Sherlock’s smile was never fake around the Doctor either. There was no acting when the two were together. They simply knew each other too well to do so. The Doctor was the only person that could get Sherlock to actually open up even a little, except for John.  
“You’ve changed,” Sherlock noted, examining the new face in detail.  
“You haven’t,” The Doctor replied easily.  
The two met in the middle in a tight embrace. It was comfortable and familiar and the two basked in the moment before pulling away.  
“How’s John?” The Doctor asked curiously.  
“Out of danger, for now,” Sherlock answered.  
“I got your message,” The Doctor began.  
“Obviously,” Sherlock stated, then added, “Perfect timing as always Doctor.”  
“Thank you, but I’m going to change the plan slightly Sherlock,” The Doctor said in a rush to finish his thought and waited for the coming argument.  
“I told you what I wanted before you came to pick me up. If you won’t help then you can take me back to Baker Street,” Sherlock said starting to get offensive, beginning to think that The Doctor wouldn’t help him.  
“You said that you were about to die. You said people were in danger. You said you needed help to ‘bring down Moriarty’s network’. You want my help, with whatever this is, that’s fine,” The Doctor said sternly before adding a little gentler, “But we are picking up John tonight.”  
“The whole point of you helping me was to keep John safe. He has already almost died once from this. I need your help now,” Sherlock continued, trying to make a case.  
“And I will help you as soon as you tell me what has happened and what it is you need help doing exactly, but we are going back for John tonight,” The Doctor stated firmly.  
“Why,” Sherlock asked. “Why involve him?”  
“Because I don’t think you should be alone. Either of you for that matter. And you know he can help us Sherlock,” The Doctor was trying to convince Sherlock and it was working. “We may need him.”  
Sherlock looked at The Doctor for a few long time before answering quietly, calmly, almost darkly, which was odd considering who he was talking to, “If anything happens….”  
“I will take full responsibility and I will also insure nothing will. We will pick up John tonight and together we will all fix whatever trouble you have gotten yourself into this time. Eh Sherlly,” The Doctor finished with a dismissive wave of his hand, grinning as he used his nickname for Sherlock. He looked as confident as ever and Sherlock knew he could trust the man in front of him. He always could and felt a need to now. “Now do you want to tell me what happened?”  
Sherlock nodded mutely as he followed The Doctor further into the TARDIS until they arrived at a room The Doctor was comfortable enough with. They walked into a large sitting room area with plenty of tables and chairs that was connected to a kitchen. The Doctor made them both tea and they sat down in comfortable chairs at a round wooden table. Sherlock told The Doctor everything he knew about Moriarty and everything that had happened since he had been aware of Moriarty and his plans over the past several months. Then the two began to devise a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a review. The next chapter will be released within the next week.


	2. An Unpleasant, Pleasant Surprise

John let the front door to 221B slam closed with a loud ‘boom’ that was so powerful that it caused the walls to reverberate throughout the building for a good five seconds. John didn’t react to the noise behind him. He just stood alone in the dark hallway until the walls became still again, then he slowly moved towards the stairs leading up to the door of his flat that he knew would be empty.   
When he reached the stairs, he heard a strained whisper: “John.” It was Ms. Hudson. She was standing half way in the hall and half way in her door just out of John’s peripheral vision. With tears streaming down her face she was shaking with the effort to control her sobs. She had just received a phone call a few minutes before John had gotten home. She had felt as much as heard the door close when John had arrived.   
John didn’t bother to turn around or reply to her. He didn’t even stop walking in acknowledgement of hearing her call. He just began to climb the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace. He didn’t want to see Ms. Hudson so upset and he didn’t want her to see him in such a state. It was best for everyone involved that John was alone right now.   
Ms. Hudson’s door clicked shut as he continued to climb. It was 6:00 in the afternoon, yet Ms. Hudson went to bed for the evening. That night she cried herself to sleep.  
John gradually stepped towards his door and slowly reached for the handle. He had been trying to prolong the inevitable because he knew that as soon as he stepped into the flat that the last three hours of his life would become real. After a long pause he took an uneven breath and walked into his vacant sitting room. It was dark, except for the light coming in through the windows, and completely silent; John had never felt more alone. He reluctantly walked into to the kitchen and forced himself to make tea. He was trying to distract himself for a little while longer. While the kettle was boiling, John reached into the cabinet for a cup and out of instinct grabbed two and sugar. The realization hit him like a train and John replaced the second cup and sugar as quickly as he could, forcing the cabinet door closed angrily. A few minutes later the kettle went off and John poured himself tea before returning to the living room with uneasy feet to sit in his designated chair.   
John never touched his tea, he just let it turn cold on the small table as he stared at the empty chair that sat in front of him, and he let his thoughts consume him. John’s face was blank, stone cold and hard, completely emotionless. There were never any tears, they were pointless and would solve nothing, ‘That’s not what Sherlock would want’. John had looked like this since it happened, since the fall. John looked like he died inside and he had. His best friend had taken his life in front of him and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He hardly spoke to the police and the one cop who was dumb enough to try and force him to answer questions almost got his head ripped off, quite literally. John looked like he had died inside and truly he had. He looked dead, all except for his eyes. His eyes were filled with a wide range of emotions: hatred, rage, frustration…but also confusion and pain. He lost the man who saved him, in more ways than one, more than the man himself knew or now ever would know, and John didn’t know why. Why had Sherlock jumped? Why had Sherlock lied to him? Because John knew he had. Why had this happened? What had caused it? Why, why, why? These questions and so many others like them ran through John’s restless mind. After an hour or more of questions he would never receive answers to John’s mind shifted back to the conversation he had with Sherlock on the roof and replayed it countless times in his head. He was trying to memorize it in the hopes to find answers that were hidden in Sherlock’s words. He then sat like this for another hour completely lost to the world, hiding in his own thoughts.  
At around eight there was a sharp knock at the door. The last thing John wanted was to see anyone or have to talk to anyone else, at least for today, so he left it unanswered. Two minutes later there was another knock. This time it was more forgiving, requesting John’s presence. John reluctantly let himself be pulled from his dark thoughts and stomped his way to the door. He rage was renewed and he was prepared to yell at the persistent intruder (‘or push them down the stairs, but let’s see how it goes,’ John thought to himself only slightly amused).  
John opened the door and was greeted by a dark barren hallway. The door leading outside to the street was just being closed with a quiet click. John looked down and saw a clear plastic bag sitting on the shadow covered floor holding a large black object. John picked up the bag and took it inside setting it on the table in the small kitchen. He knew what it was the moment he held the bag in his hands. In the light of his apartment he could see the object and there was a note resting on top of the bundled package. 

 

It took a while. I had to pull quit a few strings, but I was able to get them back. I thought you would like to keep them.   
~Lestrade

 

John carefully removed the meticulously folded coat from the bag and unfolded it letting it hang in his hands. The sudden movement of John shaking out the coat caused Sherlock’s scarf to fall to the floor. Seeing the fabric fall and holding the dark colored coat in his hands, John was hit with a new wave of emotion. With his eyes on the dark blue material lying at his feet his stomach dropped to the first floor of the building. Now there were tears in his eyes, but still he refused to let them fall. John picked up the dropped scarf and walked back into the sitting room. He carefully folded the coat in half at the collar and let it lie across Sherlock’s chair, leaving it to hang off the back. John carefully set the scarf on top of it and turned to walk to his bedroom for the night.   
But as soon as John turned his back on the chair the silence of his apartment was suddenly disrupted by a strange humming sound. It was familiar; he had heard it on the rare occasion but had never questioned it till now. It was faint and sounded like it was coming from the street out front of his apartment building. John walked over to the window and looked down into the street below. By the time John reached the window the noise had stopped and sitting in the middle of the street was an old blue police box. Because there was no explanation as to how or why the box was sitting in the street John was sure he was seeing things, so he ignored it and turned again to walk to his room.   
But before he even left the sitting room he was stopped for a second time. Now by the sound of the front door being opened and closed and two pairs of footsteps climbing the stairs at a quick pace. John turned, a little confused, but was ready for either Lestrade coming back with some sort of an emergence or an attack from Moriarty’s men planning to finish the job of their now decaying boss. John wasn’t left wondering what the intrusion was for long, because not a moment later the door to the flat was flung open.  
And in walked Sherlock Holmes.  
Behind him was a man, brown floppy hair and the same height as Sherlock that John didn’t recognize, but John took no notice to him. For now he was too busy gawking at Sherlock, standing in his sitting room, alive and breathing.   
“John.”  
Sherlock and John locked eyes as John walked to stand in front of Sherlock with only a foot of flooring left between them.  
“John?”  
John tensed and, drawing his arm up and back, decked Sherlock square in the face.   
“Is that how people say hello these days?” The Doctor asked from behind Sherlock, a mixture of concern and confusion written on his young face.  
John grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and checked for a pulse. Even, steady, though slightly elevated from the jog up the stairs and sudden intrusion of his personal space in the form of a fist. Sherlock was alive and well. Sherlock was back and he was completely, utterly fine.  
“Hello John,” Sherlock said after he straightened up from the blow he had received. He had his right hand covering his left cheek just below his eye, but luckily there was no blood and would only be minimal bruising John immediately assessed, ‘Shame.’   
“Sherlock, what the hell?” John all but screamed in his face.   
“Well, the short answer is: not dead,” Sherlock replied a little too easily with just the slightest rise of the right corner of his mouth.  
John stood motionlessly in front of the two men trying to keep calm. “I saw you jump, you were lying on the ground dead.”  
“Oh, no that was a fake,” The Doctor intercepted.   
“And who the hell are you,” John turned, looking around Sherlock at the man standing behind him who was now speaking for some reason.   
“I’m The Doctor, hello,” The Doctor replied, walking to stand beside Sherlock and giving a small friendly wave.  
“Doctor who?”  
“Just The Doctor,” was his answer.  
“What do you have to say for yourself?” John shouted with all the force he could draw from his lungs and the pent up emotions that had been circulating his body with nowhere to go for the last five hours, turning to Sherlock again, not bothering with getting an actual answer from the stranger just yet. John had just spent the last several hours of his life after Sherlock’s ‘fall’ having to deal with people asking him questions, worrying over him, and grieving. Now, here Sherlock stood, strolling back into their flat as if nothing had happened. No, that is not ok, and John was going to get answers.   
“John I can explain everything, but it will take time and it would really be…” Sherlock began, but was interrupted.  
“Go on then, I’ve got all night,” John ground out, fixing Sherlock with a stern look and waiting for an explanation.   
Sherlock knew that look all too well. John’s parental look which was almost always meant for Sherlock exclusively, it was rarely seen directed towards anyone else. Sherlock knew what that look meant, ‘No one is leaving this room till my questions are answered’. “Alright,” Sherlock gave in a little too easily, walking past John to sit in his chair. “What is this?” Sherlock was staring down at the clothes that John had placed in his seat.  
“Lestrade brought ‘em by. He thought I’d want to keep them,” John replied a little shyly.  
Sherlock proceeded to remove the items from the chair none to carefully and toss them across the room having them land scattered on the floor. John watched as he did so with a horrified expression.   
“What? It was fake,” Sherlock reminded him, not seeing anything even remotely wrong with what he had just done.   
John sat in his chair across from Sherlock with a tired sigh. He rubbed a hand across his face and through his short blond hair; he was beginning to get a headache. ‘Honestly, what was I expecting from this mad man in front of me. I should have known. No one can kill Sherlock Holmes, not even the man himself,’ John thought to himself angrily, not yet allowing himself to be pleased that Sherlock was back home completely unharmed.   
“Doctor, pull up a chair, we may be here a little while longer,” Sherlock said as he wrapped his real coat tighter around his body and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs to get comfortable. The Doctor pulled up a chair next to the two men and waited for the discussion to unfold before him. He was ready to help answer any questions for John that he could. He only wanted to help after all.  
“John, you must understand, there was nothing more I could do. I had to jump, it was the only way to insure that Moriarty’s men wouldn’t carry out their final orders,” Sherlock began to explain calmly.   
“But you said you didn’t jump. That the body was a fake,” John inquired.   
“No, he did jump. I was just able to come by and catch him before he hit the ground and leave a very convincing dummy in his place,” The Doctor cut in, thinking himself clever for having done so. “The police will never know the difference.”  
“How do you mean catch him? I thought there wasn’t already a plan for this.”  
“No there was no plan beforehand, but I was able to receive his message and come by and save him,” The Doctor responded.   
That hurt. It shouldn’t have, but it did. The way this stranger had put it sounded offhanded to John, as if the action was meaningless or a common day occurrence to the man. As if Sherlock’s life hadn’t been hanging in the balance of such a statement. “You saved him.” It wasn’t a question so much as a statement of fact.  
“Yes,” The Doctor answered, his voice sounding chipper, smiling where he sat.   
“Uh huh. And how exactly did you manage that,” John asked.  
“Well I used the TARDIS,” The Doctor stated as if that answer explained everything.  
“Sorry, what’s a TARDIS,” John asked giving Sherlock a sideways glance.   
“Yes, well, see, I may not have told John anything about you or the TARDIS,” Sherlock interjected.  
“Well where does he think you went last summer,” The Doctor asked a little put out that he knew a lot about John and John knew nothing about him. “Or any time when you’re with me?”  
“I do believe he thinks I’m here while he is at work. Like last summer, you brought me back in an hour’s time here.”   
“Where did you go,” John asked curiously.   
“Oh we weren’t gone long I just took him to a distant galaxy for a few…days,” The Doctor had paused a little awkwardly, realizing it might have been a little longer than he had originally planned their trip to be. ‘At least we returned in good time,’ The Doctor thought to himself proudly.  
“A few days, you said you were back after an hour,” John repeated looking puzzled at the mention of a galaxy and the inconsistency in their stories.  
“Yes, well, that’s where it gets a little complicated,” was the only response Sherlock gave. Then with a knowing smile he added, “Shall we go then?”  
“Go where,” John asked annoyed. He was completely lost, had received little to no answers for his questions, or at least any that made sense, and his headache was making a permanent home just above his eyes. It had been a long, tiring, depressing day all around for him and he simply wanted a few answers so he would be able to sleep.  
“Come along John,” Sherlock called as he stood and walked straight out of the flat, The Doctor following on his heels like a bouncing puppy. Sherlock didn’t need to wait and see if John would follow or not. No matter how much he yelled, whined, or complained John would follow him out that door, whether it was a completely conscious decision or not. John would follow him to the ends of the universe and back, just as Sherlock would do the same for him.   
Little did any of the men know that they would eventually get the chance to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ending this chapter here on a bit of a cliffhanger. I hope y'all are liking the story so far. Do please leave a review and we can talk about the story so far. I will try my best to keep to my schedule of uploading a chapter a week, but know that I may eventually delay uploading mid-way through on the off chance that I decide to extend the story from it's original five chapter format. Let me know your thoughts and thanks again for reading! See ya next week!


	3. Admiring the Scenery

“Go where,” John asked, equally annoyed and baffled, watching as the detective stood and walked towards the door. The Doctor standing to follow him out.  
“Come along John,” was his reply, then Sherlock was walking down the stairs.  
John didn’t give himself time to think about what he was going to do. He simply stood; mumbling to himself angrily as he did so. Then he ran to his room to retrieve his gun and tucked it in the back of his trousers. He also grabbed his mobile and wallet off the side table before bolting down the stairs, throwing on his jacket, and yelling after Sherlock.   
“Sherlock, where the hell do you think…,” but John was yelling at air. The street was completely empty, not a single person to be seen. The only thing to stand out from a typically normal British street was the old blue police box that he had seen earlier. “Sherlock?”  
John approached the box carefully. He walked around it twice mumbling to himself, “What are you?” ‘They couldn’t have gone far, but why on earth would they be in here?’  
John tentatively pushed open the door. “Sherlock?” he asked again. But as soon as John stepped into the box his mouth fell open in surprise. “Sher…”  
When John stepped into the box he wasn’t just stepping into an old phone booth. The room before him was massive with an extremely high ceiling and the entire building seemed to give off an orange glow. There was a large control panel with ever shifting lights sitting up on a large platform above the ground in the center of the room and Sherlock and The Doctor were currently standing around it as they continued their conversation.  
“Honestly Doctor, when are you going to teach me how to fly the TARDIS,” Sherlock asked, his hand gliding over a few of the panels, his eyes scanning the various buttons and levers in front of him. Then he took a few steps back to lean against a set of railings, pleased to be riding in the TARDIS once more.  
“I’ll teach you when you’re old enough to drive it,” The Doctor answered, looking amused. Almost as if they had had the very same conversation before.  
Sherlock was going to offer a witty remark in return, but before he could reply their attention was drawn to the door.  
“Sherlock,” John called again from the doorway trying to get their attention, he still seemed to be in shock.  
“Ah, John, what took you so long,” Sherlock asked, looking up from the controls.  
“What is this,” John asked in awe, walking farther into the TARDIS and going up the stairs to join the two by the panels.  
“It’s my TARDIS,” The Doctor answered, “It’s what we were discussing earlier.”   
“But it’s huge,” John exclaimed, sounding dumb even to himself, now standing at Sherlock’s side, “How is it possible? It’s just a box, but it’s bigger on the inside?”   
“No it’s much more than a box; it’s a TARDIS. It stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. It’s basically a space ship and she’ll take us anywhere we want to go in the universe,” The Doctor recited a form of his speech as he had done countless times throughout the centuries. “It’s also a time machine.”  
“A time machine,” John repeated. “Like an actually time machine?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well you do know how that sounds,” John asked. Now that he was over his initial shock he was beginning to think rationally once again. “It sounds completely impossible.”  
“Oh nothing is impossible John. You should know that by now,” Sherlock corrected.   
“Oh and you believe this do you,” John asked Sherlock. “You, mister science mind, of all people?”  
“Of course, were you not listening earlier? I’ve seen it work for myself,” Sherlock replied. “Many times in fact.”  
“Is that so? Ok then, well, let’s say that this is a time machine slash spaceship. How does it work and why is it so big,” John asked.  
“It’s Time Lord Technology. You see the TARDIS is infinite. It’s full of infinite rooms, all connected so you have everything you could ever possibly need,” The Doctor explained, grinning, as he always did when he got a chance to explain his brilliant machine to anyone. “Time Lord Technology, to put it simply, does exactly what you described. It makes things bigger on the inside.”   
“Right, of course it does. And what exactly is a ‘Time Lord’,” John asked again, he had been doing a lot of that today. Apparently he was the only person around here that was completely clueless of the current situation at hand.   
“It was a race of intelligent beings from the planet Gallifrey. I’m a Time Lord,” The Doctor answered, his smile suddenly turning despondent. “I’m the last of my species.”   
“What, you’re an alien, is that it,” John asked, cracking a smile.  
“In a matter of speaking, yes,” The Doctor answered, trying his best to recover. “But from where I’m standing you’re the alien.”  
Sherlock looked over at The Doctor and saw the shift. This was dangerous and emotional territory for him. John didn’t need to know everything about The Doctor right away, so Sherlock decided it was time for a change in subject.   
Sherlock cleared his throat audibly before quickly deciding on the first thing that came to his head, “John, I think it’s time you were properly introduced. This is my old friend, The Doctor,” Sherlock stepped to the side and gestured towards the man against the column. “Doctor, this is my friend and flat mate Dr. John Watson.”  
“Ah yes, we didn’t get a chance in the flat, pleasure to finally meet you John. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,” The Doctor said, holding out his hand and smiling once more.   
“John, nice to meet you,” John replied politely out of habit, shaking the man’s hand. “Well now that I’m all caught up, broadly speaking, would either of you like to tell me why we are here.”  
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere,” Sherlock spoke before turning to walk back to lean against the railing. Then he added, “This is when it gets interesting.” The Doctor nodded for John to join Sherlock by the rails.   
The Doctor then turned his attention back to the controls in front of him and immediately began to push buttons and flip switches left and right, reaching over a large range of paneling as he did so. The Doctor was ready to show off his machine to his new companion.   
“Sorry but, what are you doing,” John asked as he moved to stand next to Sherlock as they watched The Doctor work.   
The Doctor continued for another moment before looking over his shoulder to the two men with a knowing look and calling, “Hold on.”  
The TARDIS once again became alive, thrumming with the effort to begin traveling, and began to make the same sound that John had heard inside the flat. A whooshing, squeaking noise as if breaks where being left on a car. It was louder than John remembered, but he figured it was only because he was now inside the machine. After a moment of noise where it seemed nothing happened, The Doctor flipped another switch and the noise died down, almost like the machine was put into park.  
“Ok, what did that do Doctor,” John asked curiously.  
“Why don’t you have a look,” The Doctor replied as he stepped away from the panels and crossed his arms over his chest, giving a nod towards the door. He looked rather pleased.  
John looked to Sherlock for confirmation and when Sherlock nodded John began to move towards the door. After a slight beat Sherlock and The Doctor followed after him.   
John pushed open the door a little hesitantly. When John had opened the door he had been looking down. The only thing he saw when he looked down was black. There was no concrete from the street, no ground at all. Just darkness and a few flickering lights here and there, and they seemed to be far off at a distance. John then looked up and jumped back about a foot straight into Sherlock out of freight. Sherlock put his hands on John’s shoulders and lead him back to the door to stare out over the earth.   
When John looked out on the earth he had never felt so big or so small in his life. When he realized that, yes, they were in space, they had moved and everything The Doctor had said was true, and when he realized he could still breathe, he worked up the nerve to stick his head out of the door. John looked out over the Earth, looked at the stars, and he felt tall standing over them. Then he realized how much space there was around him and how big the Earth was, and he had never felt smaller. But one thing John was certain of, he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.  
“Wow,” John whispered after several minutes in silence.  
“You’ve been gawking for five minutes and all you can manage is ‘wow’,” Sherlock asked.  
This brought a laugh from John and he answered with, “Yes, it’s amazing.” After another pause, John asked, “So, back when we were working on the Gollum case when Moriarty first came after you?”  
John didn’t have to explain anymore, Sherlock knew what he was asking, he always did. “I know very little about the universe. I don’t think anyone will ever truly know everything there is to know about it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t admire it.”  
John was slightly leaning out of the TARDIS, his hand holding onto the frame, and Sherlock and The Doctor where behind him looking over his head at the vast open area around them. John stood completely awestruck as he witnessed the universe move around him. He had truly never seen anything more beautiful and he couldn’t believe he was getting the opportunity to see it.  
The Doctor was looking out the door with a look of utter adoration. The view outside his door is the reason The Doctor never stays still for long. The universe is always changing, nothing remains the same for long, and there is always something new to see. And though The Doctor never gets tired of moving and experiencing new things he loves to come back and look out over the Earth, watching it move through space. He loves to look out at the endless stars in every direction around him, wherever he was. But mostly he loves to be able to share it with people, with his companions. He loves to share the universe with the people he cares for most and this was only a small corner of it. Though Sherlock had been many places with The Doctor already thru the years they had known each other, there was still so much to be seen and this was only the first stop in many that The Doctor hopes to be able to share with both Sherlock and John.  
For Sherlock it had been too long since he had been here. Since he had been with The Doctor, since he had been in the TARDIS, since he had traveled...since he had been free. And now that he was back he felt like he could breathe again. Moriarty was gone, in a few weeks’ time his network would be dismantled with The Doctor’s help, and Sherlock would be able to go back to his normal life and to his work. After a week or two off with The Doctor and John naturally. After all, they would be deserving of a break after all their work was completed and they literally had all the time in the world. The Doctor was full of surprises and he never disappoints. Always a new place to travel, to see, there was never a dull moment. And now that John could travel with them there was no telling where the three would find themselves or what trouble they would get into out in the vast universe after they finished their work.   
After a few more minutes of silence John stepped back into the TARDIS and turned to face the men standing behind him. “So why are we really here? It can’t be to just to admire the scenery.”   
As John spoke he pulled out his phone with a tired yawn to check the time before realizing where he was and put it away. Without knowing the exact time he still knew it was late and suddenly remembered that he was exhausted from the long day he had had. The adrenaline from the last hour was dying off.  
“Are you alright,” Sherlock asked him, knowing John was probably exhausted from all that had happened during the day. John tried in vain to stifle another yawn as he answered.   
“Yeah, fine, fine. Just a little tired,” John replied as he rubbed his eyes. He was still waiting for an answer.  
“Let’s wait till the morning. It can all be explained tomorrow,” The Doctor said, stepping in. He saw that John was tired and starting to wear down fast from today, The Doctor wanted to be of help. “You can even stay here if you’d like, I have plenty of rooms.”  
Sherlock had stayed in the TARDIS many times over the years. At one point or another he has had to stay for days at a time. He knew the rooms were big and comfortable, and The Doctor would have breakfast in the morning. Sherlock wondered vaguely if his room was still somewhere in the TARDIS. The TARDIS changes and rearranges itself with every Regeneration The Doctor goes through and yet Sherlock had only ever used one room and it never changed, though it may move. He had used the same room, even after The Doctor changed into his tenth form. Sherlock just always assumed the TARDIS liked him enough to keep it. But Sherlock worried that John may not be comfortable enough around The Doctor and his strange new world to be able to sleep here yet and that he may want to go back to Baker Street for the night.   
Sherlock looked over to John with a questioning look on his face. “Don’t look at me,” John responded, “He’s your friend. If you two want to have a sleep over that’s fine by me,” John was smiling as he looked at Sherlock. “As long you’re asleep by midnight.”  
Sherlock returned John a frown in response which only made John giggle. “Sherlock, I don’t care if we stay as long as I can sleep.” Sherlock smiled again.  
“Excellent. Follow me,” The Doctor requested and the three proceeded to walk further into the TARDIS.   
They took many turns and walked down seemingly endless hallways. The TARDIS truly was infinite and they seemed to walk on forever until The Doctor finally came to a halt in front of a large chestnut colored door.   
“Um, One room or two,” The Doctor asked, turning to face Sherlock and John.  
“Two,” Sherlock answered quickly, not giving John enough time to be offended. Then he took The Doctor’s place in front of the heavy woodened door. He turned the familiar doorknob and stepped into the indicated room. Immediately he found the room to be the same he stayed in during each of his visits and smiled; he was doing that a lot today. “It’s the same room; it’s just how I left it.”  
“Of course, no one uses it but you,” The Doctor replied, knowing that it was in fact Sherlock’s room and no one else was allowed to enter it.  
“Thank you Doctor,” was all Sherlock said aloud, but his eyes said so much more. ‘Thank you for coming to help me, thank you for agreeing to help me finish this job, thank you for convincing me to let John come with us, thank you for letting us stay here,’ the list went on. The only other thing Sherlock said was, “Goodnight Doctor. Goodnight John,” turning to each in turn, politely, then he disappeared into his room for the night.   
Sherlock entered his room and let the door close behind him with a quiet click. Sherlock could hear whispered goodnights come from the men outside as they made their way further down the hallway to find another room. He carefully removed his scarf and coat, placing them on their “designated” hooks on his door. It was dark, but he didn’t bother to turn on the lights, he knew his way around. It wasn’t too special, probably about the same as all the rest of the rooms, except for maybe The Doctor’s. But it was his room, none the less. He removed his shoes by the door before continuing to walk across the soft carpet to his dresser. It was far bigger than the one he used at home and he knew it would still be filled with his clothes which he stored in it in case of emergency. He had begun keeping clothes in the TARDIS in case he ever wanted to run away from his boring life when he was young and he still keeps clothes for any long term trips today. Sherlock walked over to the beautiful built, dark painted, wooden dresser and he carefully stripped off his clothes till he was left in only his boxers and folded the clothes away to be cleaned later. Beside the dresser was the entrance to the personal bathroom in which Sherlock stepped inside for a short moment to relieve himself. There was a large TV hanging on the wall above the dresser, but Sherlock rarely used it, and he ignored it for tonight. Instead he walked over to his king sized bed, laying down in clean dark blue sheets and pillows and a soft black blanket on top. Sherlock sunk back into his bed, almost immediately falling into a deep peaceful sleep.  
Outside of Sherlock’s room John and The Doctor continued down to walk before turning into a dead-end hall. Three doors lined the wall on both side and a single door stood at the end of the passageway.   
“Go ahead and pick any room you like John. And the bathroom is down at the end.”  
John walked towards the first door he came to on the right. He grabbed the handle before turning around to say, “Thank you, Doctor. For everything.” This was all John said, but like Sherlock he wanted to say so much more. ‘Thank you for helping him, for doing what I couldn’t, thank you for letting us stay here, thank you for letting me be a part of this’.   
“You’re welcome. It was nice to finally meet you John and thank you for deciding to stay. I’m glad to have you with us and know it means a lot to Sherlock, whether he admits to it or not,” The Doctor explained, still smiling. It seemed to John to be his most natural look. “I’ll have breakfast in the morning, but wait for Sherlock and I to come and fetch you. We wouldn’t want you getting lost in here after all,” The Doctor gestured around himself, implying the large ship they were in. “Goodnight John.”  
“Goodnight Doctor,” John replied and the two parted ways, with John entering his room for the night and The Doctor turning and disappearing around the corner.   
John walked into the unfamiliar room and slipped off his jacket placing it on the single hook on the back of the door. He then toed off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers, laying his clothes on the dresser for the morning since he had no other clothes to wear. Then he lay down, his phone and gun resting on the side table next to him, thankful to be going to sleep for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. The ending gave me a bit of trouble. I couldn't figure out how to wrap it up to further the story along, but that is still no excuse as to why this update was late so I apologize. I'd also like to let you know that I plan on releasing at least two more chapters before next Monday because school is starting early for me next week though I do not have a sold release date in mind. Anyway, thanks again for reading and I do hope you are enjoying the story so far. Feel free to leave a review to let me know what you think and I will see you in the coming future.


	4. The End of a Network: Case Closed

6 weeks later……

 

Sherlock and John were currently running out the front door of an old, gray, three story building and into the nearby woods about half a mile across a pasture. Sirens were blaring from the building behind them and screams were echoing in every hall. There were several fires that could be seen blazing in windows throughout the building. Each room with a fire had once held documents and files by the hundreds and computers with hard drives full of information that could bring down entire countries. The documents were of old clients and new, plans long carried out and some currently taking place, and of plans preparing for the distant future.   
Sherlock knew that Moriarty had been working all over the world and he had a vast network of people working for him, but he hadn’t known it was quit this extensive. Moriarty had clients, workers, and bases set up in multiple countries and once Sherlock, John, and The Doctor had snuck into his main base set up in the middle of Ireland, surrounded by miles of empty fields (this was where all his work was organized then sent to his workers in other countries to be carried out) and they stole the papers to find where the remaining bases were located, they burned the remaining documents and wiped the databases, bringing down the main base. With Moriarty dead and all the information destroyed the building fell on its own within a week. And that was the plan. The three would slowly bring down each building one by one, erasing all the information each organization had in the process.   
The Doctor had taken Sherlock and John to dozen of bases and hideouts of all sizes all over the world and they slowly torn down each base one by one. Normally it was just Sherlock and John that entered a base. It’s not that The Doctor didn’t want to help, but he knew what went on within those walls. Many of the men working in those buildings would be put down before the two men ran back into the TARDIS for safety and it wasn’t uncommon for them to return with wounds. The Doctor knew the men that were being killed were bad men, they probably deserved it, and the men were protecting each other by killing the enemy men, which was far more important than the lives of men that lived to torture and kill for their psychotic employer. But The Doctor was too good a man and he lived by a philosophy. He doesn't believe in violence. He never use guns and refuses to endanger or hurt people unless it is the absolute last resort. Still, it was better for The Doctor to stay behind. He kept the TARDIS waiting while Sherlock and John would run in and collapse the buildings on their own. They knew what they were doing and they always made quick work of it. In and out within an hour and they almost always got the job done. They worked well together, protected each other, and always made it out with only minor injuries or less. Since they started tracking down bases Sherlock, John and The Doctor had been to Ireland, Spain, Germany and America, as well as taking out a single hideout in the U.K.   
The building Sherlock and John were currently running out of was the last building in Germany and the last remaining hideout Moriarty’s network occupied. Once all the documents had been destroyed Sherlock and John made a break down the nearest stair case and straight for the front door. Soon the building began to fill with smoke and alarms alerting of the fires started blaring. Soon it was discovered that the fires had been started by intruders infiltrating the base and other alarms started to follow.   
Sherlock and John were greeted at the door and seemed to have been surrounded. Luckily John was quick on the draw and didn’t think twice about where he was aiming.   
Two rounds left the barrel of John's gun and lodged between the eyes of two guards at the front door dropping them instantly. This allowed Sherlock to run ahead and disarm a third gunmen. Sherlock rendered him unconscious before turning the newly acquired gun down a corridor. John then turned around taking three steps backwards before taking out four more men easily, causing two to collapse on each other down the stair case lining the left wall and one to flip forward over the balcony landing with a dull 'thump'. He then caught up with Sherlock beside the wall of glass doors to see he had incapacitated two more men that had appeared in a side corridor. Sherlock found John standing beside him a moment later and the two each put down another man, John badly injuring a third, that exited a door under the balcony before the two rushed outside heading towards the distant tree line, occasionally firing another round behind them.   
The sound of constant gun fire followed the two men across the field as more guards appeared from further inside the fortress. Suddenly Sherlock jolted forward and exclaimed in pain. A bullet was lodged into the calf of his left leg. John pushed Sherlock further in front of himself and turned to stop and aim his gun, killing the man he believed had fired the bullet which struck Sherlock. John's decision to stop running and focus on a target caused himself to become a target as well and a round grazed his left shoulder. Then his name was called in a form of a warning, Sherlock was now forty paces ahead of him and the gap between them was growing so John continued to run. Still even with their minor injuries they ran as fast as they could, using the last of their strength to disappear between the trees and run for another mile before breaching a clearing where they knew the TARDIS would be sitting, waiting for them.   
Once entering the clearing, they ran up to the TARDIS and pushed their way through the blue door. The Doctor was standing at the controls and started to power up the engines as soon as the two were inside. John stored his gun in the back of his trousers and sat down on the stairs connecting the floor to the platform. Sherlock limped up the stairs past John and sat on the seat facing the controls. Pulling his leg up, he examined his leg wound. He determined that it wasn’t very deep and once John got his breath back he would be able to treat it.   
“Are you two O.K,” The Doctor asked almost urgently, his voice dripping with concern. He saw the wound on Sherlock’s leg and wondered if this wound would be worse than the last.  
“Yes, we’re fine Doctor,” John answered for the both of them. He regained his air quickly and walked to his room to retrieve the medical kit he had acquired, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as he past him.  
“Is it done,” The Doctor asked again.  
“Yes. We destroyed all the files and information, all the computer data and all of the backups in every room, everything. That was the last of Moriarty’s bases and the last of his work. We did it Doctor. Moriarty’s network is destroyed, dismantled. Completely erased,” Sherlock stated, sitting up a little straighter, with a proud look upon on his face.   
“How many,” The Doctor asked.  
The Doctor asked the same three questions after every job: Are you alright, Is it done, How many. Always asked in the same order, the order of importance. Are you alright: It was The Doctor’s responsibility to keep Sherlock and John safe and he would never forgive himself if they were ever truly hurt. Is it done: If the job wasn’t done then they would have to come back and try to clear the building again. Thankfully that had only happened on two or three occasions. And how many: How many men were killed during this specific job? Sherlock and John never killed anyone unless it was necessary, but they usually put down at least two men while clearing a building of its information. The Doctor understood of course, it had to be done, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  
“Seven,” Sherlock answered showing no remorse and feeling even less. Sherlock knew why The Doctor didn’t believe in guns or violence, he understood and even respected him for it, but Sherlock was still unaffected and understood that sometimes violence was the most effect method in completing a job.   
No more was said on the matter and by the time Sherlock had answered the remaining question John jogged back into the room carrying a small medical kit in his hands. When he reached Sherlock he sat down on the seat beside him. He quickly examined the wound before deciding to remove the bullet, use a disinfectant, and wrap it to heal, before gathering what he needed and began work on the leg.   
By now The Doctor had stopped messing with the controls and turned to lean back on them to watch John work. Once John finished wrapping Sherlock’s leg he began to examine his arm while asking the room aloud, “So what’s our next move, was that the last base?”  
“Yes,” Sherlock responded as he examined his wrapped leg, moving it to test its limits, “Moriarty’s network is destroyed. Our work is done.” Sherlock smiled again before continuing, “As for what comes next, well, that’s up to you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well your work is finished. We accomplished what we set out to do,” The Doctor began.  
“The question is, are you ready to go home,” Sherlock asked with hope in his eyes. He stood up and moved with a slight limp to stand beside The Doctor, waiting for John’s response, and hoping it was anything but a request to return home.  
“Well, what’s the other option,” John asked with slight hesitation as he looked between the two men in front of him. He saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes and knew he had other plans then going home.   
Sherlock smiled and turned slightly to face The Doctor. All eyes were on him and the room went quiet.  
His only response, “Well the two of you can come with me if you’d like. You can go anywhere you want in all of time and space. Only one condition: It has to be amazing.”


	5. Here We Go Again

John fell against the old blue wooden door that opened under his weight. Catching him self before he fell to the floor from the added weight that he carried, he walked further into the TARDIS while dragging a limp and wounded Doctor in with him. The Doctor was currently being supported by both John and Sherlock, Sherlock shuffling in behind them on The Doctor’s other side, and an arm was slung across both of the men’s shoulders as he was dragged into the machine, up the stairs and laid flat on his back across the platform.  
“I’ll go get the first aid,” John informed in a rushed mutter as he jumped up from the floor to turn and run to his room.  
“No don’t, there’s nothing you can do John,” The Doctor yelled as he tried to turn over to face the man he was speaking to, but at that moment he was hit by another wave of pain, and he laid flat on the against the floor once more.   
“John, don’t bother, you have nothing that can help him. We just need to wait,” Sherlock began to explain.   
Sherlock had seen this happen to The Doctor, “Regeneration” as he called it, only one other time. Sherlock knew what to expect from the outcome of the attack that The Doctor had suffered from and knew how to prepare for what was going to take place in only a matter of minutes. Sherlock had at first been concerned that he hadn’t been there for The Doctor during his last change, had been concerned when The Doctor had come back to save him from the fall in a new form, as a slightly different man. But, thankfully, The Doctor seemed to have made it through the early days of his regeneration just fine, hopefully with some help along the way. But the change Sherlock had seen take place in person could only be described as impossible, mystical, and beautiful, and it was something that Sherlock would never be able to explain to anyone or himself in full. Sherlock hated using the phrase, but he can only say that the Regeneration happens, “Simply because Time Lords can regenerate”, and he has absolutely no explanation as to how or why it happens.   
So Sherlock, knowing what was about to take place, jumped up from his kneeling position on the floor beside The Doctor and moved to stand beside John, intending to explain everything as best as he could to his clueless flatmate before the change so he would be somewhat prepared, but was cut off by his friend’s outburst.   
“Wait?! He’s dying, Sherlock, we have to help him. There must be something that we can do,” John tried to reason.  
Over the past several months, after all the work the three men did together and after all of the time traveling, adventures, living together and saving multiple worlds and countless lives together, John had grown rather attached to The Doctor and liked to consider them close friends. John blamed himself for The Doctor getting hurt, though of course there was no reason for him to as The Doctor was attacked by an alien that was native to the planet that they were currently visiting. But of course John would take responsibility for the attack and be completely convinced that there was something that he could have done to prevent it. So, being the medical man that John was, and The Doctor’s friend, he would do anything he could to save him.   
“No John, there is nothing you can do to help me, it’s too late,” The Doctor forcefully answered as he rolled to his front and pulled himself up to a standing position to lean against the controls. “I’m afraid. No one. Can help me. I’m dying. You see. And it’s time. For my body. To repair,” The Doctor continued to explain through gasps of air and another shot of pain.   
“I don’t understand, what do you mean repair,” John asked, looking confused as he glanced between the two men in front of him, hoping that one of them would answer.   
Sherlock grabbed John gently by the shoulder and moved him closer to the railing of the platform and further away from The Doctor as to give him room for when he changed. Then Sherlock began trying to explain to John what was about to take place in front of them.  
“John, The Doctor is a Time Lord. Two hearts, with knowledge of the universe, and highly intelligent whenever it suits him to be. He’s a completely different species from us and he also has a completely different life cycle than we have. When his body gets injured, when a Time Lord’s body becomes unusable or unlivable, either from over use or over a long period of time, when a Time Lord dies, its body repairs itself. Time Lords have the ability to repair themselves or come back to life completely renewed. They have the ability to repair themselves a total of twelve times and The Doctor is about to change into his Twelfth form.”  
“Ok. Is that supposed to explain everything to me then? What do you mean he changes and renews himself? How is that possible,” John asked again, confused and frustrated, wishing someone would just give him a straight answer. One of his friends was dying in front of him and the other was trying to very poorly give him lessons on the life cycle and biology of Time Lords which of course in John’s current situation he couldn’t and didn’t want to understand. John just simply wanted a straight answer as to what was going to happen so he could prepare himself and help in any way he could, if there was anything that could be done, before it was too late.   
“It means, John, to put it simply,” The Doctor cut into the middle of their side conversation. Sherlock and John each turned to look towards The Doctor at the sound of his voice, giving him their full attention, and waited anxiously for him to continue.   
The Doctor was panting slightly, but now he had a smile on his face as he met the pairs gaze and pushed off of the controls to stand on his own. He took a few steps, moving away from the controls, stumbling only slightly, and lifted his right hand up to his face and his smile grew. Sherlock and John followed his gaze and looked on in awe as they saw that The Doctor’s hand began to glow a bright golden color. “Sherlock, John, it’s been a pleasure, it truly has. Thank you so much, the both of you, you truly made it worthwhile.”  
“Doctor, please tell me, what is going to happen to you,” John asked again, pleading for an answer.  
“I’m changing John. I have changed many times throughout the fifteen hundred odd years I’ve been alive and now it’s time to change again,” The Doctor replied with a smaller smile, it had changed slightly and now it was almost sad. As he talked his other hand began to glow and the light became stronger, brighter. “Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, please, remember me and help him.”  
“Of course Doctor,” Sherlock answered with the same, sad smile, but the look in his eyes told John that he knew more. There was something else, something that wasn’t as sad. Sherlock wasn’t saying goodbye to a close friend. No the look in his eyes held the truth to the secret that the two were either keeping from John or that they both just couldn’t completely explain, or maybe John just didn’t want to understand until he saw something happen for himself.   
Sherlock wasn’t saying, ‘goodbye’, but he was saying, ‘I’ll be here when you get back’.   
The Doctor looked them both in the eyes, each in turn for the last time with the face that he was currently wearing, and then he faced forward, looking straight ahead with his head held high. Speaking clearly with his current voice for the last time, he whispered, “Thank you.”  
And with that The Doctor threw his head back and bright blinding golden light consumed his face and hands. It broke through with a fierce and final blast to signal that the change was going into full effect and it continued to pour from his face and wrists in a seemingly endless stream. The Doctor stood before Sherlock and John spread eagle as his body completely repaired itself and he began to change. The two stood still and watched in silent awe for several excruciatingly long seconds until the light flashed and then quickly, almost instantaneously faded.  
And just like that a different man stood in place of The Doctor. This man looked much older and grayer. He had a slightly harder face with striking facial features, but Sherlock and John looked into his eyes and instantly recognized the man standing in front of them. This strange man who changed his face so quickly and easily was The Doctor. The Doctor. Their Doctor.  
The small group of men stood in silence watching each other, waiting for someone to make a move.   
Then, Sherlock and John whispered in quiet, nervous, cautious unison, “Doctor?”  
“Kidneys!” The Doctor exclaimed abruptly, then he began to move around the TARDIS and speak in short and clipped utter nonsense for several seconds, as if he was having a conversation with himself. Then he stopped abruptly and turned to look at Sherlock and John and, as if he was seeing them for the first time, he asked in an only slightly panicked tone of voice, “Just one question. Does anyone know how to fly this thing?”  
“What?” John asked in a deadpan tone as his face fell flat of expression, not expecting a reply. Then he looked to Sherlock.  
Sherlock was again wearing a smile on his face, a dangerous smile, and he simply mused to himself aloud, “Here we go again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of the story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to leave a review to let me know your thoughts on it and thanks again for sticking around to read my little story.


End file.
